


Just Wanna Have Fun

by LiteraryLove



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Adolescent misdeeds, Dora!OC, F/M, Fluff, Mishchief, young!T'Challa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 07:06:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14515047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiteraryLove/pseuds/LiteraryLove
Summary: A Prince isn't ALWAYS on his best behavior. A Dora isn't always on duty.





	Just Wanna Have Fun

**Author's Note:**

> A little one-shot written for the #ForWakandaFF on Tumblr, with the prompt: "We could get arrested for this." I'm usually not great with deadlines so I'm proud that I got this in in time to be posted with all the greatness this fic fest brought out! :) First time writing for Black Panther *squee.* Enjoy :)

It is a good thing that it's Kalani.

T'Challa turned eighteen yesterday, which means he has been a man for two years _and a day_ , yet the Dora Milaje continue to mind him, to shadow him as they did when he was a child. Where his father, the King, is simply accompanied wherever he chooses to go without comment, T'Challa is subject to questioning, to inquiry, to demands for explanations. T'Challa paces his quarters, more aware and certainly more resentful of the Dora posted outside his door than he's ever been. But since it is Kalani….T'Challa pauses and smirks to himself. On a spark of inspiration, he grabs his newly acquired Panther helmet and tucks it under his arm, to all appearances, ready for a mission. Then he's striding out his door, past the guard and into the hall.

When he exits his quarters, Kalani falls into step behind him. “No need, Kalani,” he says over his shoulder, not expecting much resistance, “I can take the  ship out on my own.”

“Your Highness, it would be a great risk to take on a mission alone,” the Dora warns, matching his brisk pace down the corridor. “You have not had the ceremony of the heart-shaped herb. Your suit provides only so much protection.”

“It is but a small mission; I can handle it,” T'Challa answers, waving her concerns away. No need to tell her that the “mission” was a less-than-strictly-necessary fly around the countryside.

But Kalani knows him. She began her training at the palace when he was only ten years old, and she,  thi rteen. He is a young man now, but his habits have hardly changed. The way he'd fairly burst from his rooms, trying to bustle past her, the fact that he won't look at her, and the fact that she's heard nothing from her General about any mission all paint her a picture of the truth.

Kalani lengthens her stride, passing T'Challa in the narrow corridor, then turns and plants herself  in the Prince's path. He stops short, staring  into her almond eyes.  “And how does King T'Chaka feel about your plans to take the royal ship out for a joyride, hmm?” She quizze s, shaved head cocked to one side.

For a moment, T'Challa looks every bit the guilty teenager. Then, n ot even bothering to offer a denial, T'Challa narrows his eyes and surveys his obstacle. He and Kalani are of the same height. He is solidly built where she is slender, but with her standard Dora Milaje spear, she is armed and he is not. But damnit, he is the  _Prince_ . He moves to step around her.

Quick as lightening, Kalani's spear is horizontal, held close to her body, blocking his way. “ _Nkosana_ , you must not,” she declares. “For your safety-”

“-ayyye, Kalani,” T'Challa rolls his eyes. When had she become so _stuffy_? “ You are starting to sound like Okoye.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

He huffs, electing not to answer.  “How about I make you a deal...”

“A deal?”

“A _challenge_.” T'Challa smile s. “Like old times.”

Kalani  lowers her weapon,  cocks an eyebrow and waits, her cocoa face expectant.

T'Challa takes a step forward.  “Hand to hand combat,”  he elaborates, his smile turning mischievous.  “And if I am the victor, I get my joyride. Should you win, then, well...”

“-then you will _n_ _o_ _t_ break the law and hijack the Royal Talon for unofficial purposes?” Kalani supplie s.

“Well, there is no need to think about that. Surely you do not think that you will best the Black Panther.”

S he cracks a smile, and he knows he has her. “You are not the Panther just yet,” she answers as they set off for the palace's training rooms, “and do you forget who you address? I am a Dora Milaje, the mighty, the elite-”

“-oh, spare me, o mighty one, we can settle this on the mat,” T'Challa smiles.

“Ha! You will be eating that mat soon if you are not careful, young one.”

“You know, I had heard you may be promoted soon—clearly this rumor has gone to your head-”

“-you cannot talk; since the moment you got your suit, there is no bigger head in this palace than yours.”

“Kalani, you wound me! I thought that we were friends...”

 

* * *

A drop of sweat hits the cushioned floor as the two collide once again. Only a hint of the playful spirit in which they bantered earlier remains. They've been at it for a while now; whenever Kalani thinks she has gained the upper hand, she is almost immediately overcome, caged in the grip of his powerful arms. Whenever  T'Challa thinks he has won, seconds later he finds himself thrown to the ground. T'Challa now recalls that Kalani began her warrior's training years before he did. Though he may have more brute strength, her technique is sharper.

 

They are evenly matched.

 

He ducks under her latest assault, her fists go right over his head, and he bends to tackle her to the mat.  In the split-second pause as Kalani prepares to flip their positions, T'Challa spots an opening. It may be a dirty move, but it might also be his only chance. He takes it.

 

Every one of Kalani's muscles freezes as T'Challa's warm mouth lands on hers.  Time itself seems to have frozen in shock.  H is lips are softer than she would have thought,  his face radiating heat from all their exertion.  She relaxes into the mat, noting how deliciously different this feels from all the previous times he's tackled her onto her back. Just as she's raising a hand to cup his face, he breaks away, suddenly straddling her thighs and pinning her arms on either side of her head. His face cracks a wicked smile as it hovers over hers. “I win,” he announces with glee.

 

* * *

 

“There really is no need,” T'Challa says yet again. “Must you really accompany me?”

“Eh, stop talking and hurry before you get us caught.”

T'Challa moves to sit in the Royal Talon's pilot's chair. “You worry too much, my friend,” he scoffs.

“Allow me to remind you that technically, **we could get arrested for this.** ”

“And yet, you insist on taking part.”

Kalani opens her mouth to retort, with something about his  _ safety _ and her  _ duty _ , then clamps her mouth shut and shrugs instead. “Even a Dora sometimes craves adventure,” she admits  with the hint of a smile.

T'Challa smirks,  confessing to himself that perhaps he doesn't mind having her constantly at his side. He faces the control board as it comes to life. “ So,” he asks her, “which of our beautiful lands do you want to see first?”


End file.
